An Expert Improved My Tinder Profile & The Results Were Immediate

Here’s an article by one of my female followers.

As a dating writer —  I’m constantly tweaking my dating app profiles. I test different pictures and new bios in an effort to get more matches, have more engaging conversations, and hopefully go on more dates. An improved Tinder profile doesn’t mean catering to what you think potential matches want to see; it’s all about portraying your best self. You want to express your personality in a way that helps other people to recognize how amazing you are.

To help me do just that, I enlisted the help of Meredith Golden, online dating expert and founder of SpoonmeetSpoon. Golden is a dating app ghostwriter who swipes on her clients’ apps for a living, so she really knows her stuff. She analyzed my Tinder profile and let me know what aspects were working in my favor, and what elements could be improved. After implementing the changes, I saw immediate results.

Her advice is always specific to the client, so while some of these changes may be applicable to you, it’s important to remember that your dating app profile is particular to you as an individual. If my experience working with an online dating expert taught me one thing, it’s that you want your profile to be as unique as you are. So by all means, learn from my mistakes. Just know that what works for one person may not always work for another. If you’re interested in some personalized feedback, you can always work with Golden yourself. She’s basically a fairy godmother for online dating.

Golden’s first order of business was to look through my pictures. She saw that I had my Instagram connected to Tinder, so she scrolled through there and picked out a few photos she liked better. She explained that the photos she cut weren’t as flattering as they could be, and she wanted to show off my most attractive qualities. “Some of your pictures convey how adorable you are and work for you,” she said. Others, not as much.

She cut my six previous selections down to five, keeping two and swapping out three. For my first photo, she chose one of me posing on a garden bench, smiling in a grey sweater and jeans. “My goal when you’re talking to someone on Tinder is for them to swipe right on you,” she said. “I want that first picture to hit it out of the park.” She emphasized that I looked pretty and radiated positivity in this picture. Plus, she liked that I was seated so my figure is visible.

Jamie Kravitz/Tinder

She also advised me to disconnect my Instagram and protect my privacy. We talked about how usually a person will only look through a potential match’s Instagram if they’re on the fence about swiping right or left. For most people, a few featured photos are enough to make a decision. “I would rather you just put your best foot forward,” Golden told me. “You bring a lot to the table with four or five fabulous pictures. Disable your Instagram so you can control what you’re putting out there.”

We settled on three solo pics, one of me and my mom to show I’m close with my family, and one photo that didn’t have me in it at all. This was a surprise to me, and Golden said she wouldn’t do this in all instances. In my case, though, she thought a photo of my bookshelf really showed my personality and made for an interesting talking point.

“I want your profile to be a comprehensive story about you that still portrays you as being attractive,” said Golden. “I’m not having you eating a burrito with food hanging out of your mouth in any of the pictures, which I see all the time and I have no idea why people do that. I want to show that you have personality and that you’re approachable and engaging.”

Then we moved on to my bio, which Golden thought was funny, but not personal enough. I was actually still using one I had previously crafted for an article about Tinder bios: “Looking for a partner in crime. Must enjoy long walks in the park, be extremely loyal, and always get excited when I come home from work. Bonus points if you’re actually a dog.”

Especially because we disconnected my Instagram, she wanted me to mention things about myself. “I would focus more on you. There’s a technique I borrow from Hinge: two truths and a lie. You can put that on your description on Tinder, because it generates a conversation,” she said. (Hinge uses a number of different prompts to help you fill out your profile, and two truths and a lie is a popular choice.)

We chose two basic, but interesting facts about me, and made up a third. We said that I’m great at roller skating, which I’m definitely not, but it’s not a claim that’s out of the realm of possibility. Golden said that this approach makes it really easy for even the laziest guy to send me a message guessing which one is the lie. “In the profile description, I want someone to have something to talk to you about,” she said. “I want the guy to start and I want to give him some data. Two truths and a lie is an easy way to do that.”

Next up were my preferences. I had my radius set to 10 miles, which she said was a good distance from my home in Manhattan. She thought it was important to reach the other boroughs of the city, plus the adjacent city of Hoboken, New Jersey. “We don’t need to do like 30 miles to take us to the suburbs, because at 22, you’re not dating someone who’s got kids,” she said.

Ten miles in the city feels like a lot, since I typically find that my matches are usually only two or three miles away. I would be open to dating someone who lives farther, and I don’t want to miss out on someone great just because I’d prefer not to take the subway.

My age range was from 22 to 28 (I’m 22), and Golden suggested I bump up my maximum age to 32. “I know that sounds totally creepy from where you sit at 22, but I think women tend to mature faster than guys,” she said. She explained that a 30-year-old guy who has a great career and is looking for an equally great relationship is likely to open up his search to include much younger women. In order for us to be on each other’s radars, I needed to increase my age preferences to include older men. “It opens up your dating options. He’s 30 or 31 but you’re in the same stage of life,” said Golden.

I see her point, though I am a little concerned we wouldn’t have much in common. She told me that I would likely freak out the first time I went out on a date with someone who is over 30, but after five or so dates it wouldn’t feel like a big deal. I haven’t set one up yet, so I’ll have to keep you posted.

I made those changes and got to swiping. I’m not exaggerating when I say I saw results right away. I matched with one guy, and he immediately messaged me saying, “Is that a Harry Potter bobblehead?!” about the picture of my bookshelf. Then, he took on my two truths and a lie (and got it right). A few other guys also messaged me first trying to guess the lie in my bio.

Jamie Kravitz/Tinder

I feel like I’m getting better quality matches, and more engaging messages from those matches. Men are messaging me first more than they did before. I’ve set up three actual dates already. Matching with older guys feels more serious, but not in a bad way. They’re asking me on legitimate dates to dinner or the movies, rather than just expecting to come over to my place and hook up.

View image on Twitter

 

Talk about an eye-opening experience. I never would have thought to make some of these changes on my own, but they’re already paying off.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Sun Stories: Trish – Critical Mass

“Today was supposed to be her last day at the salon and no one knows where she is.”

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen my love, Cherie. But we’re accustomed to that with what our schedules are. We appreciate what little time we can spend together. We make every minute count.

Cherie planned to come down on Saturday around 3pm and stay until 8:30am Sunday morning. I thought this was good, because I could at least have dinner with her or take her out somewhere, before we went back to the bat cave and tore each other to pieces.

I wake up Saturday morning. I stayed up late the night before because I knew it was my first day off in a while and I wanted to sleep in. I could take myself out to a nice breakfast, put some fresh sheets on the bed, prepare my bedroom for the inevitable and run some errands before Cherie arrived at 3pm.

I’m lying in bed and I look at my phone. Achilles had called. Achilles also texted me.

“Do you know if Trish went to work?”

(Okay, Trish is my neighbor who lives in the apartment below me. I got her the job at the salon, but how in the hell am I supposed to know if she went to work today?)

“I’m assuming she did.”

I text Trish. “Hey can you see if I left my charger there? It would be plugged in under the counter.”

(That was just a ruse to see if she was there. I didn’t want her to think I was checking up on her.)

Achilles: “No answer at the salon.”

Me: “Fuck.”

“I’ll head over there now. But I’ll need about 30 minutes.”

I jump out of bed and into the shower. I’m dressed and out the door 30 minutes later. I speed walk over to the salon and when I get there I see four people sitting on the steps and the salon is locked and dark. One of them is the new girl I’ve been training, Jill.

I tell everybody I’m sorry for the today’s delay, but I can get them all in to tan right now. Jill is obviously upset. She had just come in to tan when she saw the place was locked. It’s nearly 1pm now. We’ve lost 2 hours worth of business, and there’s been no word from Trish.

“I was so worried when I texted you and didn’t hear anything.” Jill said.

“I wouldn’t have heard my phone, Jill. I was rushing to get over here to see what happened.”

I get everybody, including Jill, into their respective rooms to tan. I’ve got everything under control. But still no word from Trish. I roll with the notion of what’s happened around in my mind. I no longer consider Trish a friend. I tried that but I can’t take the crazy, so I’ve stopped hanging out with her. But she’s a sweet person and she comes up to the apartment all of the time and hangs out with my daughter, Lorelei. So I decide that whatever circumstances have caused Trish to miss work I’m not going to be angry, because I don’t want it to be weird when she comes over to see my daughter, or worse I don’t want her to feel bad that she can’t come up to the apartment anymore.

Trish has been expressing for the last two months that she’s tired of working in customer service. She’s a 27-year-old graphic artist. I think her own mind is what’s been holding her back from getting and keeping a real job in her field of endeavor. Which is sad. Here you have all of this talent and it’s being squandered on a daily basis. I can actually smell her talent being sledgehammered by the familiar stench of marijuana smoke that I experience everyday as it wafts up through the floor into my apartment. Morning and at night. (So she’s using to simply get through each day instead of for fun. If you want to use to create that’s great, but if you use to just leave the house and deal with life, that’s a problem.

I like to drink. I love alcohol. But I do it at the end of the day, when all the work is done. Trish has to smoke weed just to leave the house everyday. That coupled with the oceans of coffee she drinks on a daily basis to cope with the dope. She really should be on some sort of cocktail of medication and in therapy at this point. It’s very clear to me.

Something that should be enjoyed and used as a treat has been a coping mechanism for her. It’s the same for the person that needs to take a drink in the morning to “take the edge” off the day. They’re called alcoholics.

Up till now I haven’t cared about her burning up her talent and watching it go up in a puff of smoke at the end of a joint. But I brought her into the salon.  Now after a year she’s fucking up. That, or returning to her true self. When we hired her last year, the busy season was over. The job was easy then. But now we are being overwhelmed by the clients and business In general. You have to run the salon. You can’t let it run you. We’ve gotten a bad Yelp review recently because of her. Clients have complained of late openings and a bad attitude around closing. Trish shouldn’t work with the general public. She can’t handle the fast paced environment of a busy salon.

Achilles would send me in to help few nights lately. Instead of working like a well oiled unit like Summer and I did, I do all the running and Trish takes her foot off the gas and takes it easy. That’s not how it works.

So that’s why we’ve brought in Jill. She has previous salon experience, and I could see from day one that she would probably work out. Poor Trish just doesn’t have the temperament to work with people.

So the situation we find ourselves in today was supposed to be her last day and no one knows where she is.

Jill comes out from tanning and asks if she can do anything to help and says if I have plans she can work today, because she has nothing going on. I tell her I’m good, and hand her a shopping list for her to go to Wawa and get me some food because I’m going to be here until 6pm.

Oh shit! Cherie is coming at 3pm! I text her and tell her we’ve had a crisis at the salon and I have to work until 6pm. Of course as wonderful and flexible as Cherie is, she is fine with it and tells me she’ll come down at 7pm. I apologize and thank her for being understanding. So Trish’s whatever has fucked up the plans of some innocent people, so she better have a good excuse for bailing on work  on her final day and not even telling anyone what was going on.

Cherie is a mother, and has to make babysitting arrangements when she comes into the city to see me. I feel bad if that’s causing my girlfriend stress and money because of someone else’s fuck up.

Suddenly Trish comes blazing through the door to the salon.

“I’m so sorry…”

She’s visibly upset on the verge of tears.

“What happened?”

“I was arrested last night.

To Be Continued…

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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